A/N: This chapter was easier in some ways than the others, but also more difficult. I feel like I need to be careful not to get bogged down by descriptions, but to also make sure to get some of the emotional life into the story. Oh well, the end of this chapter is quite exciting in my humble opinion :D I hope you enjoy!

On a side note, this story is now the longest I have ever written, and I still feel prepared to write more! It's very exciting. That might by why my pacing feels a little bit off :( (at least it does to me.)

OHOHOHOHOHOH

Chapter 4: Is This Tomorrow

If it hadn't been for his Jedi training, Obi-Wan would have been suffering severely from boredom. With nothing to do between the doctor's and nurses' visits, Obi-Wan had a great deal of time to work on his meditation, and when not meditating he watched the courtyard and listened to what he could hear of the wider world. Those activities were the only things keeping him from pacing up and down the room like a caged animal. He was almost tempted to do it anyway just to get some exercise, except for the vague suspicion that once he started pacing, he would be unable to stop. It had been three days since Obi-Wan had met the politician, and since then he'd seen no one but the medical staff and every so often he'd get a peek of the guards.

Sometimes it seemed Qui-Gon would stir, or make some noise, but when Obi-Wan would go over to look, he was as still as he had always been. The padawan occasionally wondered if he'd imagined the sound, though Dr. Lemmy, as he'd begun to think of Lemleshor, said it was a common enough occurrence and a good sign. There were times Obi-Wan found himself talking out loud as if Qui-Gon could hear him, although it was often about things he would never normally discuss with his master. Often times it was just mundane matters, like dinner or the fact that one of the settings on the shower seemed to spit tiny beads of water out like daggers, other times it was about their situation and the various speculations he'd put together from the little information he gleaned from watching the courtyard, what Mustally had said and his prior knowledge. But, every now and again, he would catch himself thinking out loud, sharing his anxieties, his deepest thoughts and insecurities, and it was these times Obi-Wan fervently wished Qui-Gon could not hear him.

It was nearing evening, but Obi-Wan could sill hear the distant cheering from a crowd through the open window and, not for the first time, wondered what it was about. Dr. Lemleshor was due for his visit soon, and Obi-Wan found himself looking forward to it. At least the doctor knew how and was willing to speak to him, most other Lenoians treated him as if he didn't exist or had some deadly disease.

"Hello Obi-Wan, how are you feeling today?" asked Dr. Lemleshor immediately after knocking and opening the door.

"Better, I think," said Obi-Wan after clearing his throat. His cough had cone from dry and painful to rather phlegmy and painful, but his head felt better and he was less sore.

"I am glad to hear it," the doctor said with a smile before focusing on his other patient.

Obi-Wan was so used to this routine he didn't pay any particular attention and looked out the window, once again listening to the crowd's cheer. Without even thinking the padawan said out loud, "I wonder what they're cheering about."

The young man was surprised to see Dr. Lemleshor so close beside him when he replied, oddly somber, "They are watching the varyars do the Nishmava."

"A courtly dance?" asked Obi-Wan, confusion obvious in his voice and expression.

Dr. Lemleshor turned and regarded him with surprise. The doctor's expression slowly transformed into a pained smile, "Of course, you wouldn't know. 'Dancing the Nishmava' has come to mean watching the hanging of the elites, because their feet twitch at the end of the rope like a dance," he must have seen the horror on Obi-Wan's face for he added, "It used to be the varyars were exempt from hanging as a punishment, now all criminals are punished equally regardless of class. It is often true that the oppressed enjoy seeing their oppressors brutally punished, and the Party knows this.

With as shooing motion of his hand, Dr. Lemleshor abruptly changed the subject, "Ah, too much of this, I have brought you something. I know it must be very dull to be trapped in here, and I have pulled some strings. It took some time, but I finally have permission to give you this."

From out of one of his large coat pockets he pulled something that looked rather like a data pad, though a little clumsier and older.

"You can use this to watch the local broadcasts and to read many books from a data library, with quite a few selections in Basic. Most of the broadcasts will be in Lenoian, but some programs are serials from Coruscant, though I cannot promise they have any worth while content."

Obi-Wan smiled and took the proffered pad, "Thank you."

"It is nothing," said Dr. Lemleshor waving away the sentiment, "It is cruelty indeed to allow you to waste away in here with nothing to occupy your mind. Now, about Master Jinn, his condition is stable, but then neither has his state improved. Has he shown any movement or signs of waking since my last visit?"

The doctor's easy transition from mundane matters to medical questions surprised Obi-Wan, as he found himself answering as easily as if Lemleshor had asked a question about his favorite genre of music or the weather, "I thought I heard him move once, or even make a little sound, but I can't say for certain."

Lemleshor shook his head slowly, put a hand gently on Obi-Wan's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, "I know you'll report any changes. Take care, kid."

And with a small smile he was gone and onto his next patient, Obi-Wan left wondering how his dark eyes could look so compassionate, and the other doctor's eyes so cold. Over these few days they had built up something of a rapport, and Obi-Wan was beginning to hope that if anyone would tell him exactly what was going on, it would be Lemleshor. Somehow, the doctor could see through his façade of calm and sense his anxieties. Never before had he felt so helpless, and though the doctor's sympathy provided some comfort, it was about as effective as using a pebble to dam a stream.

Instead of letting himself brood like he would have when he was younger, Obi-Wan distracted himself with Lemleshor's gift. After a little fiddling he found the on switch and spent a good while figuring out the controls and programs. While the doctor was very considerate, when it came to little things he was rather absent-minded. He rarely explained things he thought were common knowledge, though was always willing enough to discuss complex biological and philosophical topics. The oversight didn't bother the padawan. He preferred figuring it out for himself rather than the fussing and hovering Nurse Misshi indulged in. Never having had a grandmother Obi-Wan was rather unaccustomed to being constantly attended to during her visits.

Somehow or other Obi-Wan managed to activate the video function and was startled by the sudden blast of sound coming from the small device. It took him longer to find the volume control than was comfortable, when he finally adjusted it to a reasonable level, the padawan was surprised to see the politician who had visited him days ago giving and impassioned speech. Mustally was gesticulating and emphasizing each word with his fist, dark eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. Frequent bouts of spontaneous cheering forced him to pause now and again. Though the content of the speech was beyond Obi-Wan's limited skills in Lenoian, he was amused when he was able to hear the politicians habit of repetition apparently carried over into his speeches—or originated from them. Behind the politician were a few rows of raised benches, many of the occupants wearing sashes or at least bandannas. Obi-Wan was shocked to recognize Dr. Shehlal in the crowd, still wearing her same fierce expression.

The occasional shots shown of the crowd were fascinating to the young man; here were hundreds of faces, maybe thousands, turned toward the podium listening, with banners and home made signs creating a sea of blue, yellow, and the ruddy colored skin. Though, occasionally in the crowd and over to the side in a tight little group there were off-worlders: other races Obi-Wan was more familiar with. It reminded him of the fact that much of the current tension on the planted was also caused by the large alien population that had been slowly increasing since the planet opened the way for immigration. Obi-Wan remembered reading about the very strict class system that had been in place for many years on the planet Varsis as a whole. Lenoia had made some progress towards a more egalitarian system, although class was still deeply rooted in their culture and modes of thought.

Before he could watch anymore, dinner arrived. Afterwards Obi-Wan contented himself with flipping through the rest of the available channels and figuring out how to access the library. He found himself yawning and was surprised by how much time had passed. It was well after dark and the clock read 28.49, Varsian Time, and he usual went to bed at about 2 standard hours earlier when the lights automatically dimmed. Quickly readying himself for bed, Obi-Wan curled beneath the covers and dropped off to sleep.

O

Obi-Wan woke suddenly, his eyes flew open and it seemed as if ever muscle in his body was wound tight. He'd heard a sound, and while his mental processes slowly emerged from sleep, the sluggish thought filtered through that it was an unusual sound—nothing like the shuffling of the night-duty nurse, Misshi.

Then the sound repeated, and his head swerved towards the source. The low keening sound was unlike anything he had heard, but it most certain came from Qui-Gon. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan nearly leapt out of bed and stood at his master's side. Through the darkened gloom, the padawan could just barely see Qui-Gon's chest rise and fall. But he waited, eyes wide in the darkness searching for any sign of deviation from what over the past few days had come to be the norm, his ears straining to hear even the slightest of sounds. Eventually Obi-Wan had to remember to allow himself to breathe, as he'd been holding back so as to avoid making any competing noise.

But the sound did not return, nor did his master stir. Soon heavy limbs forced Obi-Wan to pull up a chair beside the bed and sit down. His head soon followed, and he was resting it on the bed, eyes drooping, trying to focus on his master's face. However, it was a losing battle, and soon sleep re-claimed the young man.

O

The streets were dark and tangled, the houses so close they nearly leaned up against each other. All around was a feeling of danger, of impenetrability. As he ran through them, only just barely avoiding crashing into walls or other people around sharp turns, Obi-Wan felt a deep, curling sense of dread compelling him relentlessly onward. He felt nauseous, dizzy and clumsy, but he could not stop. Eventually, when it seemed he could run no more, he came upon a terrible scene. There on the hard ground lay his master, bent and bleeding as he had found him all those days ago. Obi-Wan felt himself shout "No!" involuntarily.

Stumbling to his master's side, the padawan gathered Qui-Gon up in his arms. The older man was looking at him earnestly, sadly, and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. Obi-Wan's vision blurred, and as Qui-Gon reached up to touch his face, he could feel the jedi's life force ebb, until it faded away.

Qui-Gon Jinn was gone.

Obi-Wan doubled over, pulling the body close, he could feel himself sobbing, but nothing—nothing, could animate the now lifeless limbs, nothing could bring his master back. Everything about the man was gone, his pulse of life, his presence in the Force; Obi-Wan felt the most terrible pain, as if a part of his own body had been ripped away, except that is was a part of his soul and the pain was all the greater.

"What will happen to me now?" asked a small, frightened voice.

When Obi-Wan looked up, the wide eyes of an unfamiliar boy greeted him, "I don't know, why would I know?" he said with a touch of desperation; why was this boy intruding on this most private moment?

"I knew it," the boy cried out with childish petulance, "You never cared for me!"

And with that declaration the boy spun around and ran off into the winding dark.

"Wait!" called Obi-Wan as he leapt to his feet, "Don't go that way! It's dangerous!"

He chased after the boy as he yelled, somehow knowing the boy had inadvertently ran down the wrong path, the winding streets threatening to swallow his small form… or were they cliffs?

"Stop! Come back! You're going the wrong way!"

But it was as if the boy could not hear him, and the faster Obi-Wan ran to catch up, the faster the boy escaped him. The sun set behind them, a blaze of red and orange casting vast shadows. The path spread out before them in this darkness, and he chased after the boy into this field. Obi-Wan knew he must catch the boy before it was too late, and he put on an extra burst of speed, even though his limbs seemed sluggish and unresponsive.

He slowly began to gain on the boy, but just as he was closing in, darkness fell and the boy was swallowed by a black chasm. Obi-Wan cried out, but soon the ground was crumbling beneath his own feet and he was tumbling into that same void, free falling, and it was as if thousands upon thousands of voices, young and old, deep and shrill, were screaming their last breath, the cacophony of sound overpowering all of Obi-Wan's senses. It was Horror, it was mindless panic—other's, his own, Obi-Wan could not tell, but it consumed him.

Then came the terrible, sudden silence.

O

Obi-Wan snapped awake, panting for breath, throat sore as if he'd been screaming. But what shocked him even more was the hand gently stroking his hair, and the familiar voice whispering hoarsely, "Hush, hush, my Padawan,"

In the darkness he could hardly make out the line of the older man's face, "What was it?"

"I… I dreamed about… dark, winding streets," Obi-Wan was ashamed his voice was so completely out of his control, it was even breaking, but the feeling of relief that flooded him overpowered any self consciousness, "I dreamed… you had… gone… that you died."

His throat closed up then, and Obi-Wan could no more continue than he could stop the tears from rolling down his face. But the hand was still there, ruffling his already messy hair, and that familiar voice spoke from the shadows, "I am here… I am here…"

OHOHOHOHOHOH

A/N: It's a bit of a cliff hanger, I know. I do enjoy being a little dramatic at times, forgive me! The next chapter is going to be exciting, and the chapter after that will be very exciting. It's all building up. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!